Feathers on the Wind
by Manda-chan
Summary: A collection of short stories varying from silly and romantic to angsty and tragic. Many will be AU, most will be Fakiru-centric.
1. Road to Somewhere

**A/N**: Believe it or not, guys, I haven't been dead! I've just... been on tumblr. Hahaha. I tend to have posted all my written works there instead of here (I suppose I got lazy about uploading in multiple places). And thus... I've developed quite a little back-log of Princess Tutu (Fakiru) related stories and requests.

That's where this new collection comes in. I'll be updating this periodically with things I've written since the last time I updated here (though a few in particular might be story updates to _Behind Closed Doors_ and _Beneath Black Feathers_, so look forward to those, if you've enjoyed those collections).

Without further ado, here's the first installment (this was one of a few prompt requests I took on tumblr):

Road To Somewhere [ Fakir/Ahiru AU ]

Request: _Ahiru and Fakir in another life meeting one another, feeling an uncomfortable sense of deja vu _

Rating and Genre: PG / Alternate Universe and subtle romantic hints.

Notes: This was fun to work with. I like the idea of them meeting in later lives and being confused by the feeling of familiarity, despite not knowing one another.

* * *

**Road To Somewhere**

* * *

...She missed it.

"Oh nooooooooooooooooo..." Ahiru moaned, her shoulders sinking as a large grey and blue vehicle disappeared from view, her hopes riding right off along with it.

She had really done it this time. A missed interview wasn't going to go over well at all-especially when the potential employer already wasn't impressed with her during stage one. She had spent all of last night preparing to make the best of it and give it her all, but now it was useless.

With a sigh, the redhead sauntered her way over to the waiting bench by the bus stop sign and plopped right down onto it unceremoniously. The wood wasn't all that clean, kind of wet, and it was wrinkling the skirt of her nice clothes she wore for the interview, but right now... she just _didn't care_.

Maybe this was a sign that the job just wasn't for her?

...That was a cop-out. Missing the bus was her own fault and she knew it. If she hadn't misplaced her keys, she would have gotten here sooner!

That was water under the sofa, though. Or over the ocean. ...She never could remember how the saying went. And she might as well just start walking all the way back to her apartment in these awful heeled shoes instead of wallowing out here in the open and-

"Hey."

Ahiru craned her neck around at the sound of the voice, blinking up at a dark-haired stranger who stood just a little ways behind the bench she was seated on. He looked annoyed, for some reason.

..._Was_ he a stranger?

No, that shouldn't be a question. She had only moved into this town recently. Surely a face as sour as this young man's would have stuck in her mind if she had seen him before.

And yet she couldn't quite ignore a feeling that was off-kilter and unbalanced-as if to tell her that she _should_ know him.

"Er, yes?" Ahiru finally replied, lapsing out of her trance.

Her gap in response time seemed to be shared, though. The man's irritated look had molded down into something more neutral in that short time, his green eyes losing their initial sharpness. He almost looked confused.

"Do I-" The man seemed to cut himself off with a shake of his head and then frowned at her. "Nevermind. You _can_ read signs, can't you?"

...Alright, that tone he took was grating on her nerves a bit. Did he just walk up to complete strangers and drill them about whether or not they could read? She didn't need this after what just happened!

"_Yes_," she snapped, with a little more harshness in her own voice.

"Really," he drawled, unimpressed, shifting his weight onto one foot. "What does the damn sign _say_, then?"

Ahiru didn't even turn around to look. Her eyes narrowed back at his scrutinizing green ones. Even the way he _acted_ was somehow familiar to her! "It says 'Bus stop'," she stated clearly.

His green eyes rolled. "The _other_ sign, you moron. The one next to the bench."

"Huh?" There was another sign? Was he just trying to be a smarty-pants or pull a prank on her or something? She decided to humor him, anyway. Turning back around, her eyes drifted to the side of the bench she sat upon.

And there actually _was_ a sign posted there. Slowly, she read it aloud.

"Caution. Wet paint."

It took approximately three seconds for the realization to dawn on her. And when it did, Ahiru sprung from the bench with a loud yelp, looking behind her in a panic.

And sure enough, the back of her blouse and skirt were splattered with thick brown stains-_ruined_.

"This isn't faaaaaaaaair!" she wailed aloud, uncaring of whether the bystander heard her or not. This was just too much to deal with! "These were brand new!"

"Then you should learn to pay more attention," the gruff voice supplied from behind.

Ahiru whirled back around to scowl at him, balling her hands into fists on either side of her. Who did he think he was!? "You just-just shut it! I already missed the bus and I'm not going to make it to my interview and now my clothes are ruined, too! I have to walk all the way back to my apartment through town like this and I don't need to get told off by some guy I don't even know, even if you _do_ look kinda familiar!"

Once more, his expression flickered visibly for a moment. Perhaps he was surprised that she just ranted off at him like that-actually, she was a bit surprised at it, herself. This was the first time she ever went off like this on a complete stranger.

Or at least someone she _thought _was a stranger...

"Tch, and you're whiner, too. That figures."

Ahiru was about to retort in a fresh burst of anger, but instead was silenced when she suddenly found him all but hurling his jacket toward her. Fumbling to grasp the heavy fabric, she managed to catch it before it hit the ground. Then she looked back up with bewilderment. "What-"

"Take that to cover up. You're short enough that it should be more than enough."

Ahiru stared at him as though he just told her to do the chicken dance.

"It's an old coat," he continued, unperturbed by her dumbfounded reaction. "Don't worry about returning it."

And with that, he turned around and started to walk away. Ahiru wasn't sure just what ran through her mind as she watched his retreating figure, but something she didn't understand-something strong and discomforting in the pit of her stomach... it told her to go after him.

She didn't question it. Gathering his coat up securely in her arms, she hurried over the uneven sidewalk. "W-Wait! I-"

The man stopped as she approached. And just as he turned around, the redhead tripped forward on her wobbly heels-

"WAUGH!"

-somehow landing perfectly into arms that had already shot out to catch her.

For a long moment, the two remained in that position, unmoving. Stunned, in Ahiru's case. There was no way he would have had reacted that fast, right? Not unless...

"...I knew it," he broke the silence, his voice sounding softer-almost in awe or disbelief. "I can't explain it, but I knew you were going to trip before it happened. You're a klutz, aren't you?"

He finally righted her, and Ahiru couldn't even find it in herself to be offended with his assumption. In fact, he was right. She was horribly clumsy. But she hadn't done anything clumsy before he arrived. And aside from that, there was the feeling she had the instant that she fell...

"I knew it, too," she said. And she took in his surprised look briefly as she felt a measure of heat flock to her cheeks. "I didn't know I was gonna fall, but... when I did... I knew you were going to catch me. It doesn't make any sense, does it?"

Ahiru found herself chuckling at the absurdity of it, which soon turned into full-blown laughter that she couldn't hold in.

"This... is so weird."

He didn't look annoyed or displeased any longer. On the contrary, the way he was rubbing at the back of his neck made him appear kind of awkward, instead. Ahiru felt a pang of familiarity again as he cleared his throat.

"What were you going to... to say?" he asked her, pulling a hand out of his pocket. "You asked me to wait."

...That's right. She had been running after him.

"O-Oh... I was just going to ask-I wanted to know-do I... do I know you? From somewhere-anywhere. Even when I first saw you, I just got this really strange feeling..."

She trailed off uncertainly, dropping her head. He was going to think she was crazy, wasn't he?

"I felt that way, too."

Just as quickly as it lowered, her head snapped up again, blue eyes wide. "Eh? Really?"

Wordlessly, he nodded.

"...I don't think we've met." She sighed, still finding that she was unable to place his face or name or anything else about him. "I feel like I'd really remember meeting someone like you before. And I just moved here a couple weeks ago, so I-"

"EWWW! Looks like she slipped in the mud! It's all down her back! Gross!"

The sudden exclamation turned both of the young adults' attention to a jeering group of kids nearby who were pointing at the redhead.

"Maybe it's not mud! Maybe she fell in cow poo!"

Just as Ahiru's cheeks flooded with embarrassment and her lips flapped with incoherent stammers, she felt a warmth encase her hand and tug her in the opposite direction.

"Come on. There's a coffee shop nearby. We can talk there."

It was as if the children faded completely out of existence, their taunts no longer reaching her. When he took her hand... she felt safe. She felt like she could trust this hand to guide her _anywhere_. It was the strongest feeling yet.

And Ahiru didn't think twice about following after him, curling her fingers back over his.

* * *

**A/N**: Hope you guys don't hate me for my absence! I promise I'm here with lots of fanfic goodies. And I'd love any feedback, if you have it (even if you're angry with me. Haha...).

As always, thank you for reading!


	2. A Shitty Proposal

**A/N**: Here's the next little story for you guys! I also took this one as a request from an anonymous on tumblr. I love writing silly little Fakiru things and this was no exception. The idea hit and... well, I couldn't resist.

I'm happy that you guys have been enjoying this little collection so far. And I will continue to periodically add to it with pieces I have done from tumblr. I really appreciate the feedback and it's good to be back into posting Tutufic here after so long. I have missed it~ Thanks for the support.

Title: A Shitty Proposal [ Fakir/Ahiru ]

**Prompt**: _maybe... Fakir proposing ahiru! with an accident related to birds. _

Rating and Genre: PG / Humor/Romance

Notes: I'm... sorry for this. Kind of. Sort of. BUT IT WAS THE FIRST THING THAT CAME TO MIND...

* * *

**A Shitty Proposal**

* * *

This was it.

He had the ring. Charon had even helped him sculpt it to be special-just for her. He had the perfect moment. This was her favorite spot by the lake, with the birds chirping happily overhead and bright sunshine pouring down on them. He had her attention, too.

How could he not, when he was down on one knee like a knight before a princess?

Fakir had written down what to say many times. There were many crumpled parchments littering his wastebasket, all bearing various attempts at putting these feelings of his into words that he could speak to her. So that he could finally, after four long years, ask her...

Yes, now was the time. He would never be more ready than this, no matter how hard his heart was pounding and how frazzled and torn his nerves were. It had to be now.

Fakir swallowed, taking one short breath before he looked up into the endless blue of the eyes of the girl-the duck-that he fell in love with.

He couldn't remember the words. Now that the crucial time was upon him, they scattered like scared animals from a threat, completely out of reach. But he had to press on. She was waiting.

_It had to be now._

"Ahiru, I-I've been-What I mean is-will you-"

_**SPLAT**_.

A series of tweets sounded from overhead and Fakir went rigid with shock.

He felt it. _Oh god_, did he feel it. And just like that, the most important words all but flew away and abandoned him.

Ahiru couldn't seem to find any, either. She was staring, wide-eyes and speechless at what he already knew was plastered to his goddamn forehead.

With a sudden, ugly lurch of anger and frustration, Fakir reached up and swiped the disgusting splotch away before it could seep any further down his face. He flicked the substance away with a growl, his cheeks and ears burning from the embarrassment and utter humiliation.

This was unbelievable. He had been prepared for many things - most of all, Ahiru's rejection. And instead, he found himself in a completely unprecedented twist of events, as fate would have it.

A fate with a really sick sense of humor.

Fakir had definitely not even _considered_ that a bird would just happen to fly over his head and decide to go ahead and _**go**_ right then and there-especially not at the crucial moment that he was about to ask the only girl of his heart to marry him.

Was this the damn bird's way of saying that he wasn't good enough for her? That this was hopeless from the start?

...Why was he even considering what the birds thought!? Dammit, she was rubbing off on him!

"Nevermind!" Fakir bit out with a snap as he got to his feet. "This is a bad time."

He had been wrong from the start. Listing off everything as being perfect was just like _asking_ for a disaster. He was a fool.

"Fakir! Just tell me!" She tugged on his sleeve before he could turn away. "I can tell it had to be important!"

And now _she_ was pressing him further. How in the hell was he supposed to deal with this?! He couldn't just-get back on his knees and try to do that _again_. He must have looked revolting and he couldn't even take her hand when his was all sullied with-

"_Fakir_!" she insistently yanked on him. It was obvious that she was becoming irritated now, as well. "You can't just do all that and take me here specially and then just-just say '_nevermind_'!"

"JUST-" His voice raised, but he quickly cut himself off before anything else slipped out. Yelling at her would just make this even worse. He needed to control himself, just a little longer. He could ask her at breakfast tomorrow morning or something. It didn't have to be now. As calmly as he could manage, he pulled her hand away from his sleeve with his clean one. "...Don't worry about it."

Persistent, she pouted, immediately reaching back out to take his sleeve again. "How can I _not_ worry about it when you won't even tell me-"

"Fine!" he raised his arms in a shout, effectively losing her grasp a second time. And all previous thoughts of holding back his temper snapped in two like twigs. "I was going to ask you to marry me! And then a goddamn bird decided to come along and take a crap on my head and ruin it! Happy now?!"

She didn't reach for his arm again. As expected, she looked shocked. Fakir felt his face flush further and looked away.

How could he lose it and let it out like _that_? Of all the ways to ask her...

"Yes."

His brows drew together as he glanced uncertainly in her direction.

"Yes!" she repeated, beaming brilliantly. All traces of her irritation were gone, flooded out by a elation that shone from every pore on her face. "I _am_ happy! I'm really, really, _**really**_ happy! You're asking me to-you want to-to marry me? Really?"

"Y-Yeah, of course I do, moron. You're the only one I-"

Fakir couldn't even finish his flustered response before she was barreling right into his front, embracing him while she seemed to be bouncing up and down at the same time.

"Yes, yes, yes! Of course it's yes!"

Giving her a one-armed, awkward return embrace, Fakir heard a familiar chirp and looked up into a nearby tree. A bird perched innocently there, tilting its head at him with another short chirp.

Somehow, he just _knew_ it was the one.

* * *

**A/N**: What can I say? I like to pick on Fakir. Good thing he's a fictional character or I might feel bad about it. Hahaha~

Anyway, I'd appreciate any comments/crits/feedback you may have. :) There will be many more installments to come as long as the readers are enjoying them!

Thank you for reading.


	3. Slumbering Child

**A/N**: Back with another short little story/prompt from tumblr! This time, it's of the Mytho/Rue variety (combo-breaker!). And while I don't feel that I write Mytho/Rue as well and as comfortably as Fakir/Ahiru, I still enjoyed writing them for a change (and I like reading fics of them, too - they are my second OTP of the series, after all). I think their relationship post-series has a lot of potential, but I struggle with Mytho the most since we get to see so little of him in the series with a full and intact heart. I never feel like I get his character down very well, since you almost have to give him traits along the way like creating an OC (and I've never been too comfortable with writing those). I suppose that's a big part of why I chose to write this from Rue's POV.

**Prompt**: _mytho/rue with a baby? that would be adorbs. Thanks in advance._

**Rating/Genre**: PG | Angst / Hurt-Comfort

**Notes**: This is set post-series at some point. I meant for this to be a drabble, but I felt inspired to make it more like a short fic. (That seems to happen with nearly all of my works... it almost makes me wonder if I'm even capable of writing drabbles.) Hope you enjoy!

Feedback is lovely and greatly appreciated. I hope you guys are enjoying these new little story additions.

* * *

**Slumbering Child**

* * *

"Is... is this right? Like this? Just like this?"

Rue's lips quirked upward on the side-just slightly. Mytho was too endearing for his own good sometimes, even if he was being a bit silly at the moment.

"Relax," she coaxed. "As long as you don't drop her, you're doing fine."

The prince's features twisted into shock, utterly aghast. "Oh, no! I would never-"

She meant it in jest, but Mytho was really fretting over this, wasn't he? With a sigh, Rue came to his side and adjusted his unsteady arms to cradle the infant nestled within them tenderly.

It was strange. She never would have considered herself the 'motherly' type. She couldn't even remember her own mother and never gave much thought to having kids of her own. However, upon seeing Mytho holding this child, she couldn't help but wonder how it would be if the child was _theirs_...

Now _she_ was the one being silly.

"You give both her body and head support this way, you see?" she spoke lightly, softly. One of her hands reached up to rest on his shoulder and she looked down at the infant from over his shoulder.

With a brief hesitation, she reached one hand down to lightly brush the little girl's hair away from her eyes.

The small baby did not even stir. She really did appear to be at peace, slumbering away, even in the presence of someone tainted like her. How curious, that she could be allowed to come in contact with something so innocent.

Her eyes flickered up to Mytho's face. The prince's expression was full of wonder and yet so gentle, so full of joy as he looked upon that child's sleeping face. It warmed her heart, so much that even the raven's blood couldn't stop that overflowing feeling.

"Rue?"

Blinking out of her contemplation, she met his soft golden-eyed gaze. "Yes, my prince?"

"Do you think that maybe... someday we could..." He looked down at the child in his arms briefly before his eyes rose back up to hers. "...Like this?"

Rue's eyebrows rose, a dusting of color flushing up her cheeks. Then, she quickly looked away. There was a reality he must realize, one that would shatter that delicately erected rose-colored glass building in his mind.

"Are you not worried if a child of ours would be tainted by..." The princess trailed off. She just couldn't say it. Her teeth bit down upon her bottom lip as lowered her head, bangs obscuring her face.

"No." Still cradling the slumbering infant, Mytho reached out to gently turn his princess's face back toward him. "No, I'm not worried at all. I can tell, Rue. This fragile life is just as precious to you as it is to me. Don't you understand? We would treasure that child to no end. Both of us."

Before she knew it, tears blurred her vision and overflowed down Rue's face.

"Rue?" Alarmed, he slid his fingers up to brush a few of the tears away. "I'm sorry - if that upsets you, I never would have brought it up. I promise I will not again if that's what you-"

"I want to have a child with you," she choked out, shaking her head. "I do. One of our own... our own family."

"Rue..." The prince reached out to embrace her in a one-armed hug, the child still tenderly tucked with his other arm. "We will. I promise, we will. And everything will be fine-we'll manage together. You'll see."

That's right... she wasn't alone anymore, yearning for love. She was no longer caught in a web of lies created by a father who was never really her father.

She could have a family of her own and give that family all the love it needed.

* * *

**A/N**: And there we go. I still have lots of little short fics (and longer ones) to post in this collection. I don't know what you guys think of them since the first one, but I really hope you're enjoying them. And just a FYI: since I have more to update this fic with, it's going to be updated more than my other ones. Sorry if you're waiting for those, but the ones with less material for updating will not be updated as frequently.

Either way, I hope that won't stop you from enjoying this, even if you're simply waiting for something else of mine to update instead.

Feedback/criticisms/any comments are more than welcome and I love to read them (and also respond, as long as you're a logged in member).

As always, thank you for reading.


	4. Fallen Soldier

A/N: Back with another chapter of this - another carry-over from tumblr writing prompts that I've done. Hope you'll enjoy this one. It's a _lot_ longer than the other ones so far. And if you could spare a review, I'd really appreciate it. I hope people are enjoying these and still want me to post here on fanfiction dot net. After the first one I posted of these, pretty much all interest seemed to drop, so...

I'd appreciate it greatly, if you could.

Title: Fallen Soldier [ Fakir/Ahiru AU ]

Rating: PG-13 for imagery and Fakir's cussing.

Genre: Alternate Universe | Hurt/Comfort | Friendship/Romance

Summary: _Fakir scowled at the bandages that peeked out from beneath the shirt covering his right arm. He was a fallen soldier - one of the wounded from the first clash of weapons. It was an utter disgrace._

Other notes: This was requested as "war au" by an anonymous. I ask that you please not try to take this too seriously, since I BSed a lot of war-related things to make this work. That said, I hope to surprise some of you with the route I decided to take this. It may not be what you would expect. :)

* * *

**Fallen Soldier**

* * *

He had been... reduced to _this_.

Fakir scowled at the bandages that peeked out from beneath the shirt covering his right arm. He was a fallen soldier - one of the wounded from the first clash of weapons. It was an utter disgrace. Someone with his battle expertise should be out on the field, fighting with the rest of the soldiers and doing his duty. He was damn good with a sword and he knew it - hell, his comrades knew it just as well.

Yet a wound that had slashed across his chest made him all but useless. He had been healing up now for two weeks and _still_ they thought him too weak to return to the battlefield. It didn't matter how much he insisted that he was fine or what he told them about wanting to serve his country properly. They did not listen and would not even allow him near the camps or near any blade or weapon whatsoever.

All he had been granted permission to do was to help treat other wounded soldiers. It didn't thrill him, by any means, but he had no choice in the matter. If he did not do this, he would truly be completely worthless - merely taking up space.

And so he combed one of the abandoned battlefields with a scowl of disdain, searching for survivors among the throng of dead bodies. The site did not turn his stomach or bother him - he was far too used to such grotesque displays by now.

The weapons had already been removed from the bodies, both friend and foe, and it seemed rather pointless to be searching amidst such a stench of death for a mere body or two that might still have survived for a short while longer.

...No, that was not true. In his bitterness, he may have told himself it was, but he regretted lost lives of his brethren just as much as anyone else would. They put their lives on the line for their country and he respected that. Perhaps he hid it well behind an impassive face and cold green eyes, but it was true, nonetheless.

Hefting the first aid bag over his shoulder, he grunted and continued to let his eyes scan across the body-ridden wasteland. Perhaps, in some strange way, he really was useful for endeavors like these. The majority of those who volunteered for treating the wounded and working in the medical aid tents were female. And this was not a sight for them to behold - many of them would probably not be able to stand it.

Any luck of finding a survivor was growing dimmer and dimmer by the moment, though. It wouldn't even be the first time he returned from one of these battlefield scoutings empty-handed. Fakir sighed, brushing a stubborn lock of dark hair from his face and turning-

That was when he heard it. The noise was faint to the point that he thought he might have imagined it, but then he heard it _again_.

Quick as a flash, he turned around. "Is someone-?"

His eyes scanned the flat terrain for any sign of movement, narrowed and concentrated. He couldn't have imagined it. If nothing else, he was pretty certain that his hearing was still in top-notch shape. And then, some twenty yards away, he could see a silhouette slumped, but trembling and tottering - as if the person was trying to budge.

"Don't move!" he ordered in a barked shout, his feet picking up into a run. "Just stay still! I have medical tools with me!"

It was obvious that the damned idiot wasn't even listening to him. Even as he neared his destination, the figured continued to wiggle and wobble, trying to raise from its position in vain.

"I _said_-"

But he never did repeat himself, instead coming to a full and sudden stop on a gasp of surprise. The emblem tied to the figure's uniform was not that of his country.

It was the other country - the one they were currently at _war _with. Fakir automatically reared back, repulsed by that emblem alone. He could see a wound on the figure's back, and a gash in their arm-which looked far too thin to be adequate to wield weaponry to begin with. If he left them here, they would surely die from blood loss sooner or later - probably sooner, as this battlefield wasn't exactly fresh.

And that was just what he intended to do. He wouldn't go so far as to desecrate the body or anything like that, but he was here to rescue survivors from _his_ side of the war, not theirs. With a noise of displeasure, he backed away from the small, hunched over body and turned on foot.

...There was no reason to feel remorse. It wasn't his job to save _everyone_.

"...mnng..."

Hearing the noise of something falling to the ground, Fakir turned back around against his better judgement. The figure had slumped over to the side, the soldier's hat having falling off and... his eyes widened in stunned surprise. Now that the figure was not cramped in upon itself and splayed out more, their gender was apparent. And that was what made the least sense of all.

The fallen soldier was a woman.

Fakir couldn't wrap his head around it. Had the other country stooped so low as to send their women into battle to be slaughtered? Women and children were to be protected at all costs!

Yet... she was still an enemy. That was an undeniable fact, despite the circumstances. He shouldn't feel a shred of anything for some fallen redheaded woman on her deathbed. They were not acquainted and whether her country sent her into the throes of this war or not, it was her own damn fault for listening to them!

So he thought, but Fakir could not bring himself to leave the scene. His feet felt like lead in their boots, refusing him a single step.

..._Damn_ this nameless woman!

Before he could think twice, Fakir let out a frustrated noise as he stepped forward and knelt on the ground next to the fallen soldier, his bag sliding off of his shoulder. As he went to work opening it and removing some heavy white gauze, his eyes flicked to the half-prone figure. "Can you move?"

She didn't immediately respond - and honestly, he didn't expect her to. But he could see her eyes open, blinking into the light. They were a bright, startling shade of blue. He felt like they didn't belong amidst the sea of reds and browns. And from the way she was looking about, he wondered if she had been blinded, but he retracted that thought quickly. Her eyes had gone to his face briefly, but he noted how they widened when she spotted the design on the front pocket of his jacket. Only then did she try to make a sudden move, which back-fired as she doubled over, wheezing in pain.

"Idiot," he chastised. "I'm not going to kill you. Just be still."

Her eyes were on his face again as he leaned closer, bandages in hand. For some odd reason, he felt exposed by those blue orbs, as if she could see right through him somehow. The faintest bit of heat rose to his cheeks. He quickly looked away, focusing on her wounds. "I'm just going to stop the bleeding," he informed her. "Then you're on your own."

With some difficulty, he managed to move her into a semi-seated position, though she had no choice but to lean against him for balance. Fakir tried to fight down the growing awkwardness as he reached around her to wrap one set of bandages. She was a small little thing and by no means did she look fit to bear arms in a war. What the hell had the other side been _thinking_?

Once one section of bandages were administered, Fakir leaned back away from the young woman, pulling her straighter up with one arm while popping off the top of a canteen of water with the other hand.

"The hell are you doing out here?" he asked gruffly. "Is your country so dishonorable that they send little girls to take part in this bloodshed?"

"No... no," she croaked, trying to force the words out of her throat. "I... mnph-"

Her voice was cut off as he all but shoved a canteen at her face. "Drink," was all he said.

And she did, taking careful gulps into what he imagined must have been a completely parched throat. She wasn't really a child. He could tell that much. However, he still couldn't make sense of what she was doing out here. There was no symbol for a medic on her clothing. She had the basic infantry uniform, just like the others from the opposing forces. He let his questions lay dormant in his throat for the time being, allowing her time to drink as much water as she felt she needed.

...He was going too far, he knew. If anyone from the camp happened to come out here to find him now, he would be accused of assisting the enemy and likely labeled a traitor. But damn it all, he couldn't just leave this moron out here to bleed away and die like the other countless bodies strewn around. Fakir knew that he wouldn't be able to cope with the guilt of doing so.

As for why he felt guilt at all... he couldn't say. It wasn't just that she was female, no matter how much he wanted to claim it was just that. There was something about her that just... drew him over to her side and to digging into his bag before he could even consider exactly what he was doing. It was perplexing in such a way that he couldn't even fully comprehend.

With an audible pop. she finally pulled the canteen from her lips and shakily offered it back to him - but it dropped from her wobbly grip to the ground, spilling upon contact. "Oh no," she gasped, making a dive for it. "I didn't mean to-AAUUUH!"

Almost instantly, she hunched over in pain from the abrupt movement. Fakir nearly rolled his eyes as he reached out to steady her. Didn't she at least know to stay _still _when she was so heavily wounded? "It's just water," he told her. "Don't worry about it."

It seemed like she had found her voice now, but he waited for her to catch her breath and stop making those godawful whimpering noises before he voiced any of his earlier questions. When he was certain she was no longer gasping in pain, he ventured, "How did you end up out here? I thought women were not permitted to enter the war as soldiers."

She was quiet for a brief time - longer than if she had just been catching her breath. Fakir began to wonder if she had tried to fake her gender or something, but it still didn't add up in his head. He had been able to tell that she was female just as soon as she had moved and her hat fallen.

"...I c... couldn't... couldn't stand... it."

His brows furrowed. "Couldn't stand what?"

Once more, she fell silent. Fakir sighed, reaching back for his bag. "Look, if there's some reason you can't tell me, that's fine. We're on opposing sides, so-"

"They were going to send him and I couldn't stand it."

Her words were soft and spoken in such a rush that he almost didn't catch them before they were blown away by the wind. Slowly, he turned his gaze back toward her.

"There was... a young boy," she continued, taking breaths at intervals between a few short words. "He was... being - _forcefully_ taken away from his mother. They said... he was... just old enough for the war. He had to go."

It was a grim truth she spoke, Fakir knew. War tore families apart and many young men were drafted into it whether or not they were prepared to fight for their country. But did that mean...?

"...I knocked... the soldier down. I yelled at him. I said... it wasn't fair. I said... I said..."

It didn't take long for it to dawn on him. Somehow, he felt he knew exactly what this girl had done. "...You offered to take his place, didn't you."

Her blue eyes broadened with a measure of surprise, but she nodded. "I... pleaded. They... allowed me through. Because... I had... no family."

Something in his chest pulled tight.

_Damn her_, he thought. Why did he feel weak to this girl and her story? Why did he care about this enemy soldier at all? So she had taken the place of some young boy - so what? It wasn't so much heroic as it was absolutely stupid. She didn't look like someone that could fight. And if he hadn't found her here, surely she would have died. She merely traded one casualty for another.

...Or she would have, if he had not found her and given her aid. And now, there was no reason for him to stay here any longer. He said she was on her own, right?

Why was he hesitating _now_?

"You... better go," she told him, as if reading his thoughts. "You... would be in-in t-trouble if any... anyone saw you... right?"

And she was worried about _him_?

He scoffed. "And are you really going to survive if I leave?"

Had the expression not looked so warped on her exhausted, blood-stained, and dirty face, he might have thought the petulant pout she gave him looked cute. "I'm... _fine_," she strained with some insistence on the last word. "If it will... ease your guilt... or your pity... I will go as soon... as I regain... my strength."

"Hn." He wasn't convinced, but she had a compelling argument - if he was caught tending to her, that would cause not only problems for him, but she would likely be killed on the spot. And somehow, he could not stomach the thought of that happening - especially not because of him. Slowly, he rose up to his feet, leaning down long enough to pick up his bag and throw it over his shoulder. "The bandage should hold for at least a few days. Don't try to take it off yourself. Leave it to one of your own medics."

With that, he had prepared to turn and leave, but once again he found himself stopped in his tracks and staring. She was... she was...

She was _smiling _at him.

"Than...Thank you," she spoke, still holding that tired upturn of her lips. "I will... not forget. You... saved my life."

The heat he felt in his cheeks before burst anew over the entirety of his face. Why the hell did she have to go and say it like that? He whipped his head to the side, feigning looking off into the distance. "It... it was nothing. Just be careful. If you see anyone from... from my camp, just pretend you're dead."

_Or they would make sure that she was before they left_.

"Yes... thank you."

And even once he turned around, Fakir was certain that she continued to beam that same crooked little smile.

It felt oddly like rays of sunshine upon his back.

* * *

Try as he might after making it through a fitful night with little sleep, Fakir could not keep his mind off of the wounded young woman he left on the abandoned battlefield. He attempted to convince himself over and over that she would have found shelter with her own camps by now, but it wasn't enough to quell his worries.

And why the hell _should_ he worry? He had only known her maybe a half hour. And he didn't even know her name - there was no reason for him to.

...Even so, every time he closed his eyes, her face shone like a beacon. He could recall it all, from the flecks of blood and dirt upon her face to her mud-caked red hair and the freckles across the bridge of her nose. And her eyes-

"DAMN IT!"

As soon as the vocal words came out, he was immediately shushed by a passing nurse, who was giving him a very unamused look for his outburst. And he had to accept that he just couldn't concentrate on this menial task of folding cloths. He felt like he might go mad if he didn't at least go back to make sure that the idiot got up and left as she said she would. Once he saw that she was no longer there, then hopefully he could finally put these inexplicable worries and feelings to rest.

After all, there was no chance that he would ever see her again. He was being foolish for dwelling on her in the first place.

"I'm going out for some air," he informed one of the nurses.

Once their backs were turned, he grabbed a few other things out of sight.

Just in case.

* * *

Fakir had scanned the field of dead soldiers, expecting not to still find a certain redhead among them. So when he actually _did_, he nearly dropped his bag to the ground with shock.

Damn her! It didn't even look as though she'd _moved_ since the day before! What the hell was she doing!?

"You MORON!" he snapped in frustration, stomping straight over to her and dropping his bag to the ground in front of her with a heavy flop.

Her head was lowered, looking away from him. Even without seeing her face, he could tell that she wasn't expecting he would return.

"Why haven't you gone for help?" he demanded, kneeling down in attempt to better face her. "Do you just plan to sit out here and _waste away_!?"

"I..."

"You _lied _to me, dammit!"

Though she winced at those words, she finally faced him. A bit of a stubborn light showed in her blue eyes. "I didn't _lie_."

"You said you would go!" he seethed, unnaturally upset with her.

"When I had... the strength!" she corrected him.

His green eyes narrowed. "So you're saying that you're still too exhausted to move?"

"I..." she was still hesitating. "It's not... exactly that."

"Then what _is_ it?" he pressed.

"You... you should leave before-"

"_Tell me _already!"

A moment of silence followed before she shifted and lifted one leg away from the other. And Fakir saw something he hadn't seen the day before. In fact, just looking, he could tell...

"You have a broken leg." That was an understatement. It was twisted almost violently out of place.

Wordlessly, she nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he implored, still angry with the girl. She had let him bandage her back. If she couldn't damn well walk, why would she have sent him off without saying anything?

"...I did not... want to... bother you," she admitted softly. "You... already did so much for me. I could not... ask for more."

Damn this woman for the _hundredth_ time!

"And what would have happened if I hadn't come back?" he asked dryly, already unlatching his bag and digging through the contents.

She didn't respond - they both knew the answer.

"You're such a goddamn moron," he bit out, straightening her leg with one hand as he moved to apply a splint. "What good was anything I did yesterday if you were just going to let yourself _rot_ out here?"

"I'm sorry..."

"Forget it," he muttered, working the splint into place and wrapping around it. "You obviously can't be left alone." She damn well smiled at him yesterday - _smiled_, as she knew he was leaving and she had no way of moving herself, fully aware that she was basically being left to die.

"...Why... would you go... this far?"

Fakir's fingers halted. As much as he loathed to admit it, she had a point. There was no reason for him to be getting this irrationally upset over her choices. He didn't spend much time bandaging her up. It shouldn't have been a big deal. If she was happy to lay here to die, who was he to tell her that she shouldn't? They were on opposite sides in this war. He wasn't supposed to _care_.

But he did. And he cared so much that it burned in his chest. What was happening to him?

"...That's not your concern."

"My name... is Ahiru."

Fakir's brows scrunched up in confusion as he paused to look up at her. What the hell kind of response was that? She was _introducing_ herself?

Her blue eyes blinked back at him. "Isn't this... where you tell me... your name?"

He regarded her coolly. "So you volunteered your name to an enemy soldier and you expect him to do the same?"

"We're both human," she responded almost immediately. "I don't... care what side you're on. Or what you do with... my name. But... I understand if... you don't want to tell me yours."

Fakir swallowed uncomfortably. _Damn her_. Why did he feel such a startling weakness to her voice, her eyes, her everything? It didn't make any sense!

"...Fakir," he grunted in a low tone. He supposed it didn't matter if she knew his name. She wasn't the kind of person who was about to run off and tell her comrades - not that she could even if she wanted to.

"Fakir..." she echoed, as if testing his name. "I like that. It... suits you."

He tried to fight it, but the blush won over his cheeks without much contest. Why would she say such... such ridiculous things!? He need to... to focus.

"Just hold still, idiot," he mumbled. And when she laughed lightly in response, he felt the heat in his face intensify.

"You're embarrassed?" she giggled again, and he raised his eyes long enough to scowl at her. "Is it weird... that I like your name?"

"...Yes," he growled. "Weird and stupid. Can't you just be quiet while I do this?"

"No," she responded in such a flippant manner that he had to throw another glare at her. And she met it with that sunny grin of hers. "We're friends now, Fakir."

"No we're not," he corrected her. "I'm only doing this out of pity for how pathetic you look."

It was a lie. And apparently, she knew it was. "You... wouldn't have come back... if it was just that. Fakir."

He ignored her. Truth be told, he didn't fully understand the reasons why he was here now. He had been worried about her and he cared about her well-being, but that didn't make them friends, did it? It would be the same if he had found anyone that day. _Anyone_.

His heart didn't agree. He barely resisted the urge to pull one hand back and pound a fist against it.

And then, there was suddenly an open palm of a small hand extended before him. There were a few shallow cuts along the side and it was filthy. But she hovered it expectantly before him. "Friends?"

Fakir looked down at his own hand. The skin was rough and torn in a few places, weathered and toughened from years of carrying swords and training. It didn't seem fit for shaking hands or holding another.

He inhaled once and clasped her hand in his. It was softer than it looked.

* * *

"Time to wake up, moron."

Dozing beneath the canopy of many trees, the redhead finally stirred and gave a wide yawn as she sat up. One hand rubbed sleepily at her eyes, almost like a child would. "Fakir...?"

"No, it's the grim reaper."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"I brought breakfast," he announced, setting his trusty bag down beside her and following suit, himself. "Rations aren't much, but they're better than nothing."

"You're gonna get caught one of these days," she chastised him. Nonetheless, she took a piece of offered stale bread as soon as it was handed to her. And she dug right in.

"I was going to ask how you're feeling, but if you can eat like a pig, I suppose I have no reason to worry."

Cheeks full of bread, not unlike a chipmunk holding nuts, she scowled at him. Fakir let her eat for the time being, leaning back against the same large tree she was propped up against. This wasn't the best hiding place, but it was certainly a lot better than leaving her in that field of war casualties. The air was fresher, they were less likely to be seen, and... it almost felt like some secret place that only the two of them knew about.

Yes, over the past few weeks of aiding this female soldier, he had grown to care a great deal about her. She was optimistic, friendly, infuriatingly self-sacrificing, stubborn, affectionate, kindhearted, and a light in the dreary darkness that he felt his life had become. He had long since cast away their war roles and the idea of having sides. This girl could have been from the moon and he still wouldn't have been able to think any differently of her.

He was pulled from his thoughts as he felt the weight of her head lean against his shoulder. Almost automatically, his arm weaved to wrap around and support her.

"...Hey, Fakir?"

"Hn?"

A bird chirped from the treetops above, filling a moment of silence before, "How long can we keep doing this?"

It was a question that he didn't think she knew how to answer any more than he did, but... the truth was, the medical aid personnel were getting suspicious. They noticed missing rations, they questioned why he left so much, and his lies were growing paper thin.

That was why... he had prepared. The bag at his side held a lot more than bandages and breakfast.

"Ahiru." It was rare that he used her name. Even without glancing down, he knew that he had her full attention. "...Is it true what you said... about not having any family?"

"I... yeah, but... but don't worry about that, if that's what's keeping you-mph!"

"Don't be a moron," he cut her off, literally buttoning her lips shut with his fingers. After a moment, he released her. "I actually had a... proposition for you. I've been thinking about it for a few days now. But I don't want you to feel pressured."

He could feel her shift as she turned to look up at him. "...What is it?"

This shouldn't have been hard to say, Fakir reasoned, but... it felt weightier than just the words that stuck on his tongue. It wasn't a safe parting of ways that he was looking to suggest, but rather...

"I... have thought about leaving the country. That is... _both_ countries. Leaving this war altogether - for good. There's a neutral to the south." His lips hesitated. "And I... that is... I wanted to ask if... would you come with me?"

The silence following was deafening. He could hear only the sound of his own heart pounding like a thumping bass drum. Perhaps he had been too forward, asking that after inquiring about her family... would it be too obvious what he was implying? Would it sound not enough like just being friends? His thoughts began to race out of control.

"You - you can forget I said anything if you - _OW_! What the h-"

Fakir had been ready to heatedly demand why she had decided to pull on his hair so abruptly, but instead found his lips covered with the soft press of her own from below. His eyebrows rose in surprise. Was she...? No, that was a stupid question - there was no way to incorrectly interpret something of this nature.

His heart fluttering and beating even more quickly, Fakir returned the pressure, reveling in how _right_ and amazing it felt. Only once did he ever think about kissing her - and that thought had been scrunched up into a tiny ball and done away with as immediately as it formed. He thought she only felt indebted to him, while his feelings had been growing to something more. Just the sight of her smiling or even a glance of her blue eyes could make his heart skip a beat.

Finally, they had to pull back for air. And the shy look on her face almost betrayed the bold move she had just pulled - or it would have, if she didn't carry the smallest of smiles upon those lips.

"I... take that as a yes?" he quipped. She socked him in the arm. It didn't hurt.

"I still can't walk," she responded sheepishly. "But I want to go. With you. I would go anywhere with you."

To hear her say something like _that_... damn her. Damn her in all the best of ways.

"I carried you here and I can carry you elsewhere," he declared with a huff, but it was then softened with a rare smile - one he showed solely to her and only once before now. "I can't promise you wealth or good health or anything worthwhile, but I will always protect you."

"You... you jerk." To his shock, she was suddenly sobbing and embracing him. Her tears stained the front of his medic uniform. "_You're_ more worthwhile than _anything_."

Fakir wound his arms around to accommodate her, softly stroking over her frizzy, dirty red locks.

He had found something much more precious to him than any duty he ever thought he was meant to fulfill.

And he didn't intend to ever lose her.

* * *

End notes: I couldn't resist putting a twist on this. I imagine the reader was probably thinking that Fakir was going to be the wounded soldier that was being tended to - I even used the title term for him and summary to throw people off. I wanted to turn that around and instead have Ahiru be the wounded soldier that _he_ would be tending to.

And I also want to say that the countries are never named, nor the time period, because I didn't really want to set this historically - so they're made-up countries at war, I guess. But I wanted to at least keep things to back in the time when women weren't permitted to join the armed forces, so Fakir would have sufficient surprise about finding her out there. I BSed many things, so please don't take this too seriously. That's all I ask, I promise! Though if you have certain qualms with it, I'd be more than happy to discuss it with you as well.

Hope you enjoyed it. Reviews would be wonderful and I reply to any and all that are made logged-in.

Thank you for reading!


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